The Crossover
by Minnn
Summary: Obernewtyn & Legendsong. Remorseful Atthis saves Elspeth, seguing and finding hope for the girl should she awaken in Cassandra's time. But Atthis didn't reckon on other certain manipulators witnessing Elspeth's pass into the Unraveller's World.
1. Chapter 1

A/n: Hey. Don't ask me where this idea came from, I'm not even too sure. Please let me know if you think it's worth continuing. I'll take suggestions on how to proceed too, since I don't want this to be a re-write of the Legendsong with different characters – Elf, Cassy and Atthis are going to make their _own _story, with appearances by the girls-who-should-have-been, Ember and Glynn, too. Sorry, all sounds very confusing. If you love Obernewtyn and Legendsong, you should be able to catch on. 

Obernewtyn and Legendsong characters and themes all belong to the one and only Isobelle Carmody. 

The Crossover 

by Min

Prologue 

As Atthis' mind merged with that of the young woman before her, she felt the abating flicker that had been her life, once so full of heartfire. With Atthis' death would come rebirth; Agyllian Eldars had been created in essence of the fantastical Phoenix's of the Beforetime, carrying out an eternal existence, always remembering. 

It was the young woman in front of her, the one Atthis had taken and made a legend of, whose flame would not rekindle. Atthis felt the Seeker's acceptance, knowing that her job was done; her Quest was at its end. She could rest. 

Atthis felt remorse. What machinations the Agyllians had been meddling in all these years, she scorned! To manipulate the minds of the other beasts; the minds of the two most powerful young women of any era, to what ends? Atthis had let them live, and destroyed their lives. Atthis had not been the Destroyer. The alter-ego of the contrived legend had never existed. Atthis had been a Destroyer though. 

As Atthis poured her memories of the ages into the dying girl's mind, and watched as the emerald-green orbs widened in realisation, she expected the _funaga_ reaction emotions of hate and self-pity. But the Seeker hid her emotions from even the great Agyllian, so adept had she become in hiding all that was precious to her. 

In a moment of great indecision, Atthis _segued_ and sought a means to keep the Seeker alive. Through time and space did Atthis travel, travelling light-years in the blink of an eye, catching glimpses of futures rebirthing and pasts never lived. 

There was a light of hope in the Beforetime. In the age where the first Elder had begun their schemings and wound the young latent futureteller and healer Cassandra, and the strange, devoted feline who called himself Maruman, into their cause. 

Atthis segued with the flailing life-force under her spirit wings, leaving the desolate Land upon which the Agyllian's had succeeded in imposing revenge upon, witnessing another timeline inexorably close itself as its all possible futures ceased to exist. 

After delivering her protégé to the Beforetime era Atthis was so loathed of, the great Agyllian sealed herself in the Void, ensuring all Agyllian Elders reborn would never again have the ability to manipulate the futures. 

…But even as the Agyllian sealed herself in the Void, she could feel the futures of the Beforetime shifting to accompany the new addition to its world…

***

Chapter 1 

The undulating silver ebb of mindstream had been calling, reaching, soaking into Elspeth for so long that the chaotic dream she had experienced seemed out of place. With longsleep would come peace and forgetting. Forgetting about all those who had taken their own longsleep in trying to save the Land alongside her.

Time was slowing down, Elspeth felt, and a flash of her old, sharp intelligence wondered if longsleep would be forever forgetting more and more slowly until the trickle of memories ceased to be absorbed by the mindstream leaving nothing – no, less than nothing, for one needed memories to be able to perceive the concept of nothing. 

That's when she started to feel cross-eyed, and the feeling of floating began. She was being blindly torn from her body, blindly dragged through a cold abyss of nothingness, blindly lead to subconsciousness. 

_"What's going on?" _Elspeth was able to wonder. 

Her mind plunged. She felt the cool flow of water around her, and wondered palely at the mindstream's dealings with her. 

A horse whinnied in the distance, urgent. Elspeth's mind soared to it, hoping for Gahltha, for Avra, for someone – anyone – to cling onto. Her mind groped hopelessly. 

The whinnying echoed obscurely, and in a moment of realisation Elspeth knew she was hearing hundreds of horses, all trapped in this watery nightmare with her. 

Irrational fear slapped Elspeth into consciousness and she screamed immediately. She was supposed to be dead! How could there be waking?!

Her screams bubbled and Elspeth's head cleared enough to tell her she was underwater, and the horses were still screaming at her. There was no telling to how she was alive, but she was in trouble. She kicked madly upwards, for surely there must be a surface if she was underwater. Her garments inhibited her, tangling about her legs. She wondered furiously why she had been brought back from the mindstream, only to experience the panic that preceded death all over again. 

As she kicked, mind was propelled upwards ahead of body, sending out a desperate plea for help. __

Breaking through the surface and gasping for air, Elspeth thrashed, trying to throw off the dragging sensation being fed by the horses screams, and her own clothes. She called out, in panic, in pain, in fear. Her energy was failing. Her limp body chose that moment to give in to its weariness and she promptly slipped back into unconsciousness. 

***

Atthis witnessed the Seeker's crossover, unable to intervene the moment she had sealed herself and all her future descendants into the Void. In her final attempt to save the young woman, she had contrived to have her borne of the waters in the Beforetime and found by the one who had first been coerced to dream of her, the girl-child, Cassandra Duprey. Atthis had underestimated the Seeker before, and once again she had been drawn into a strands of another's weavings.

***

Cassy sat on the balcony of the Dionyssos hostel, her knees drawn up to her chin as she watched the ferry make it's final run for the day across the Aegean Sea to one of the minor islands. Biting her bottom lip, she wondered for the hundredth time if she should have gone with Chen to Mykonos. 

No. Seperation had to be good for them, she reasoned with herself. 

Truthfully, Cassy couldn't explain her longing to remain on Naxos for the remainder of their visas – and hadn't minded to let Chen know that this was her intention just yet. Naxos felt right. Despite feeling somewhat abandoned akin to Ariadne and Theseus' legend, and intimidated travelling alone for the first time in her life, Cassy had been almost relieved that Chen had chosen to leave for one of the party islands. There were a few long-termers in the hostel who were friendly enough, but still everyone generally kept to themselves. One went to Ios or Mykonos to experience other people. One went to Naxos to experience the island. 

The sun had long ago set behind the slopes of Mt Zeus, rendering the air chilly and invigorating. The breeze, carrying the smells of sea-salt and fish, invited Cassy to cast off her oppressive air and walk the twilight hours with the alluring zephyr. The atmosphere was hypnotic, musical, and Cassy delighted to obey the call. 

She made a pit stop in her dorm to don a hoodie over her jeans and white singlet-top, grabbed her passport and wallet, and hastened outside. 

By the time she reached the beach, her hair had been pulled free of its usually limp plait, and her face felt fresh and clean. Cassy sauntered through the sand, kicking off her sandals and letting the cool sand creep between her toes, wondering if she'd ever felt so alive. 

She did not regret staying on Naxos. Not with moments such as these to live for. 

_The breeze spoke to her._

Cassy opened her eyes, wondering if she had just heard what she thought she heard. A voice on the wind. She couldn't make out the words. 

She turned her head slowly, looking for a speaker. 

The breeze spoke again, closer than before. Urgently. 

Cassy crossed her brows and surveyed the beach once more. There was nobody there. Was she loosing her mind? 

A third time. 

_'…anyone there?!'_

Ooook, there was definitely a voice now. Cassy's gaze froze on movement in the water before her. Someone was thrashing around out there, and they looked like they _were_ in trouble! 

After a moment of indecision, wondering if she should run back to the hostel for help, Cassy threw her sandals down at the shoreline and ran into the water. Whoever it was out there wouldn't be able to wait much longer. 

_'…please!'_ __

Cassy gasped as she waded into a cold patch of water, doubly at the realisation that the voice was female and it was being spoken _into her mind!_

She convinced herself there would be time after to question this drowning girl, only if she concentrated on the task at hand. Focus on the swimmer and get them both back to shore. 

Cassy's eyes were glued to the flailing hands and arms. She was sure that her own heart stopped when the arms stopped moving, the mental cries stopped coming, and the girl slipped back underwater. 

Cassy threw caution to the wind and dove, tearing off her hoodie and kicking in the direction of the sinking girl. She passed through another cold patch of water, then a warmer one, telling herself that the girl who had been calling to her must have gotten a cramp from the changing temperatures. The water changed a third time, so suddenly it was as though someone had driven a blade of ice through Cassy's chest. Near the end of her air reserves, Cassy moved to break for the surface, then felt a spasm of pain as her muscles cramped with the sudden change! She tried wriggling her body upwards, thankful for the knowledge that the human body was buoyant and using all her will to make her body rise. Her lungs felt like they were about to explode from holding her breath so long, and tears emerged from Cassy's eyes, merging with the salt water of the Aegean. 

She was so close to the surface now, she could see the moon shining down into the water, she would break through any moment…

Why was she seeing _two _moons? It had to be a trick of the mind, she thought, as she forced her way to the surface…

***

A/n: so…? 

Apologies to anyone whose from, or has been to Naxos. I've never been there. I don't know if the Dionyssos hostel overlooks a ferry port, all I have is my Europe on a Shoestring and a will to travel again…


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone – sorry this is taking so long. That annoying 'real life' thing has been getting in the way of updating anything.

Chapter 2

_I can't see, ElspethInnle, and my ears hear only ringing. The mindstream quickens and I must follow the call._

_We have fought so long! Donot give up now!_

_Silly funaga sentiments. Donot forget. Longsleep is nature. Lonsleep will be rest for this battered body-_

_Then I willcome with you!_

_No. You must wake._

_Stop telling me what I must and mustnot do!_

_Wake!_

Elspeth woke.

Her skin tingled and stang sharply, as though someone had rubbed lemon juice into a million tiny open wounds. She winced, her back arching, her forearms digging into the piercing little rocks she was lying on. Her eyes, still closed, felt gravely. Her teeth, clenched together to keep from crying out, felt gritty and she tasted sand, salt, and a strange, spicy tang. There was ringing in her ears, but even as she noticed this, it began to fade.

Her body began to heal. She wondered at this from underneath the stinging – she'd never been aware of it before. How was her body healing – wait! Atthis had done something. No, Nerat had done something to her for – _Oh Lud._

Memories cascaded her mind as the stinging acidic feeling ebbed.

Atthis had saved her moments from longsleep – why? The Agyllian had revealed everything to her, the plotting and playing with lives, etched with remorse and shame on the Elder's part. Elspeth knew that Nerat had taught her body to heal itself while she'd been at the Ken Agyllian Eyrie. She had thought it had been a gift. But Nerat had taught her to heal, because she had been the only one with the correct combination of power and gullibility to carry out their ruse.

_"I am not gullible,"_ Elspeth's mind angered. _"I was only trusting."_

So, they needed her because she was trusting.

Elspeth felt wetness at her feet. She could hear water crashing on rocks nearby. There was a sharp, chilly wind trying to blow folds in her sopping clothing but succeeding only in creating a freezing air-bubble along her backbone.

She remembered the unforseen longsleep. Everyone had died in the blast, except _her_ for some reason. Atthis still needed her. She remembered snatches of a chaotic, watery journey.

_"I made it to shore."_

Elspeth moved gingerly, wiping her hands on the threads of her tattered green tunic. It had once been a fantastic gypsy creation; embroidered with black and gold.

She forced the sentiments that arose from the connection between the tunic and the maker of the tunic aside, sealing it in the back of her mind to deal with another time.

Wiping as much grit as she could out of her eyes, Elspeth rose to her full height and surveyed her surrounds. She was on a beach made of black crystal-like sand. The beach gave way to cliffs directly in front of her. Either side of her, more cliffs rose. She was lucky to have been washed up in one piece, if at all.

Though it reminded her of a small, shadowed Templeport, she didn't recognise the land, but given the black, glassy-like sand of the beach she'd been marooned on, Elspeth thought with a dull certainty that she had to be on tainted ground.

"Strange though…taint emanates static…and…" 

Elspeth sent out a farseeking probe without hazard. No blackland static. She withdrew her probe quickly, realising she'd been stupid to send anything, not knowing where she was, being as depleted in energy as she was.

The situation took a turn for the worse as Elspeth turned back to the ocean - and looked up at two moons; one blue, one green.

Elspeth blinked slowly. She was seeing double.

No…there were really two moons.

_You are on the Ashlings, where anything is possible..._

"Oh, I am not," Elspeth jaded her inner voice, her voice as gravely as her eyes felt. She was whole – body and spirit. She was alive. She was on an untainted, blackland beach looking at two moons. Obviously, Atthis had had a hand in this.

Elspeth wanted to send her mind out screaming _"Where are you Atthis!"_, in fear as much as anger, but her energy levels were far too low, and since when had screaming for Atthis made the Agyllian explain anything? She'd need all the energy she had left to make it through the night without freezing. The healing 'gift' from Nerat would keep her alive to a point – but you couldn't heal an empty, frozen corpse.

Elspeth shuddered as she turned away from the moons, and felt hot tears in remembering dear Maruman's pet aversion. She had never found out why he had hated the moon so. There hadn't been time…

_"Stop it Elspeth,"_ she scolded, hugging herself and grimacing as her fingers soaked into the wet cloth on her arms. She needed a fire.

Looking around the beach, she was certain it would never happen. The moisture generated by the spray of the ocean, and the swift, sharp breeze carrying that obscure citrus scent, would make sure of it.

She made herself walk. If there was a beach, there would have to be a weakness in the cliffs somewhere that she could shelter herself in until morning. Then she would be able to dry herself, and try to work out why she was here.

Because Atthis always had some reason.

"I will not serve you this time," she promised nobody

-----

She hadn't been able to sleep. Cramped in a small fissure in the cliff-face, Elspeth had spent the night staring at the ocean, the two hated moons, and the alien starscape above her; gazing, but not really seeing. Her mind rested.

The moons had both risen over her and disappear behind the cliff face while her teeth had chattered and her arms had clenched – perhaps frozen – to her arms. Then the sky had begun to lighten.

The grey of pre-dawn warmed a little to reveal a pastel – hued landscape. The sky was clear, and slightly purpled. The ocean reflected this, breaking into darker, indigo waves. The rock she had embedded herself in was dark; and the beach was black – but even in this muted light, Elspeth could see it sparkling slightly.

She noted the sun rise, though she didn't see it from her position. She was more concerned about what came after the shadows had been officially broken.

_Voices. _

There were people chanting, or singing, above her. She couldn't make out their words. Caution warned to remain hidden. Hunger, desperation – and curiousity - won over, and Elspeth climbed out of her fissure and faced the full strength of the morning breeze and blood-red sun.

Two moons, a red sun – why not? 

Elspeth turned away from the alien sun and loosened a Farseeking probe. The wind played with the voices, distorting distance, and the cliffs created echo. It was a little eerie.

Elspeth's probe found them. There were twenty or so people, climbing down the cliff, to _her very beach_. The first mind she encountered was closed to Elspeth – not by a natural mindshield, but a drug induced haze. Elspeth didn't dare search them out with anything but a probe. What kind of people walked down a cliff and onto a beach at sunrise – while drugged? She would monitor their progress and once the strange people had left, she would trace their path to the top of the cliffs and-

Then what?

Elspeth checked each mind of the progression again, swaying her probe with the drugged mind signals in an attempt to break through the haze. She tried mind after mind, seeking one who was perhaps not so affected as the others.

She swallowed a scream as a mind _reached out to her_.

Her first reaction was to slam down her shield. Immediately, she sensed the inquiring probe was weaker and carried no coercion – and was a _she _beastmind. Her heart soared and Elspeth let the othermind through her shield.

Instantly, Elspeth felt pain in her abdomen. She clutched her stomach, doubled over, and opened her eyes in shock, sending;

"Why do you attack me?" 

The message fell from Elspeth's mind. She was in a blue-tinged darkness, and there was a large man with a furry hat and stubble on his chin leering down at her.

_"Biting!!"_ a He-mind sent. There was a human-scream and Elspeth saw blood.

Elspeth pushed the othermind from her, stilling the chilling story, and slammed her shield down once more to protect her mind. The She-othermind emitted horror, sadness, remorse. It was crying out to her.

"Fiennamind?!" the She-othermind sent. 

_"Who are you?"_ Elspeth sent at the same time.

There was a moment's pause. The She-othermind subdued and withdrew a little, politely waiting Elspeth's answer, rather than attempting to dig for the information herself.

Elspeth hesitated. She would address the beast as she would any other that arrived at Obernewtyn, each with their own horror story to deal with.

"Greetings littlesistermind. I am ElspethInn-," she paused. Innle had only been part of her name while she'd been the Seeker. No more.

"I am Elspeth," she corrected. "What name/shape/form may I call you?"

Another pause. The She-othermind was weighing an answer, Elspeth could feel.

_"I am a mother and a daughtermind. You are no fienna. You mindspeak strangely, though I am surprised that you mindspeak at all,"_ She sent.

_"I am lost, sistermind,"_ Elspeth replied with simple truth, alarmed at the strength of the She's projection.__

_"As am I," _the She returned with a mental sigh. _"But you are strong-minded. I can feel it," _the She countered, with a hint of interest.

Elspeth didn't know how to respond, and hesitated.

_"I will mindspeak with you soon, sisterling," _the She sent and withdrew.

Elspeth came back to herself fully and blinked. That had been odd. She curved her head from her hiding place, her back facing the glowing ocean and the risen, only partially red now, sun, her senses revelling the slight heat warming her back as her mind ticked over and eyes searched. She could see the trail of chanting people, all dressed in black with a bright red emblem on their breasts bar one; a woman, Elspeth judged from her height and form, dressed in a hooded red cloak, who lead the procession.

Elspeth tried to see the beast that had spoken with her, wary now of sending out another farseeking probe. Her eyes were drawn back to the red cloaked figure.

The procession swayed in motion. The red-clad leader stopped in her tracks and, with a fluidity as though underwater, rose her head to face Elspeth.

Elspeth crossed her brows and raised a coercive shield, one that would hide her to their eyes, or make her seem a mere shimmery hallucination of the strange people's drug.

The red-cloaked leader looked down again, but turned and headed in Elspeth's direction at her former methodical pace. The black entourage followed, hypnotised.

Elspeth stood as she was a moment longer, before deciding to drop her coercive guise and make a quiet, stealthy move away from the drugged people.

As the plan formed in her mind, Elspeth began to feel cold and woozy. She steadied herself against a nearby rock and quickly checked the progress of the oncoming train of people. The red-cloaked one's head had risen, and Elspeth was sure it was looking at her. Elspeth stared back as she strengthened her mental defences. Though she could not see the eyes of the red-cloaked woman, there was something hypnotic about her – the same hypnotic ability that Madame Vega had betrayed to Elspeth all those years ago in the tea chamber of the orphanhome, that had in turn betrayed Elspeth a Misfit. Elspeth was fully aware of what the red-cloaked woman was trying to do. She had something akin to empathy, or enthralling, but on a higher level than any she had encountered.

Surprisingly, this calmed her. Elspeth could counter a mental attack. The Talents the woman possessed were intuitive. They wouldn't hold against _her _coercion, and if needs arose, there was always the _killing_ power...

No. It wouldn't come to that, Elspeth promised herself.

The mind of this woman was trying to lull Elspeth into a false sense of security.

Elspeth strengthened her shield, deliberately allowing the woman to feel that she knew what she was doing.

She registered acknowledgement. She registered a withdrawal.

The woman in the red cloak crumbled before her eyes, and fell into the black sand. The entourage of black-clad followers stopped in their tracks.

Elspeth held her breath, wondering what on earth she had done, before sending a quick probe to the woman to assess.

She was dead! Elspeth tried to dig into the woman's mind, but there was nothing. It was as though she had been dead an eternity, for all Elspeth encountered was Void.

Elspeth came back to herself once more, and leaned against the support rock again. She stared at the line of black-clad people, their heads turned towards their fallen leader, their eyes blinking as though being introduced to daylight for the first time.

The form was broken. A woman screamed, and a number of people rushed forwards to the fallen body. Elspeth was far too close to retreat unnoticed. She wanted to melt into the stone.

Ten steps…ten steps and the nearest of the black-clad people would be on her. But they seemed more concerned with the fallen one.

A stern, older, extraordinarily tall woman spotted Elspeth first, and wasted no time in committing her.

"What did you doto the Draaka!"

Elspeth pressed her back against the rock as the tall woman and a shorter, stouter and somewhat untidy woman with grey hair, strode over to her. Around the shorter woman's neck lay what upon first glance appeared to be a dead animal – Elspeth realised it was the She-mind that had contacted her just before the red-cloaked woman they called 'draaka' had fallen.

Only the two women had made their way to Elspeth, and she relaxed somewhat. She could see anger – of course – but caution in their eyes, as soon as they were close enough to notice such things. The presence of the sinuous little creature draped casually about the stout one's shoulders reassured Elspeth.

"I did nothing," Elspeth spoke with a slight rasp.

"Who are you?" the tall woman snapped.

Elspeth narrowed her eyes. "I am not a murderer. I wasn't even close to her."

With a whisper of metal, the tall woman held a dark grey knife at Elspeth's belly.

"Answer me," she grated.

"This beach is off limits to civilians," the stout woman spoke finally, her eyes sharp and narrowed. "Jurass' orders, and all of Acantha know of it. How did you get here?"

Elspeth glared down at the knife between her and the tall woman. A coercive probe loosened, Elspeth wove her way into the tall woman's mind, set on convincing the knife-wielding woman to let her go.

As Elspeth entered her mind, the tall woman's eyes rolled back in her head, and the knife fell from her fingers into the black-crystal sand. The woman began to shake, and the shorter took a step back, calling out in terror; to whom, Elspeth couldn't tell.

Elspeth withdrew immediately, forcing herself to continue to stand tall. The blast woman wasn't Talented, but she was mind-sensitive! She'd been tampered with before!

The tall woman slumped a little, and stared _up_ to Elspeth, breathing heavily.

"She is a demon."

Elspeth's defiance of this woman abated a little as the words travelled to the rest of the black-clad group. The mutinous-looking black-clad group. Could she take them all on if she had to?

"No," the stout woman with the She on her shoulders stepped back aside the tall woman, her back straighter but her eyes still narrowed. "It is clear what has happened here. The Draaka is dead, and this girl lives, able to bend Prime Wykka's mind with her will."

"The Void Guardian has sent us a stronger servant!" One of the older men of the group sounded positively elated, and Elspeth grimaced at his enthusiasm in the red-cloaked woman's death.

There was a muttering of excited talk amongst the black-clad people, while the two women – the tall and the stout – continued to regard her warily.

"Prime Wykka," the stout woman grated. "We must escort the Void Guardian's servant to the cloister. She will be tested further-"

"Need she any testing if the Void Guardian has already so obviously chosen her?" one of the black-clad called.

The stout ignored the call with an annoyed pause, but this time spoke directly to Elspeth. "You will accompany us to the cloister. If you are a servant of the Chaos Spirit, and his Chosen, you shall take your place. If you bring treachery to our sect, you shall be killed. We shall let the Chaos spirit decide your fate."

With that, the stout woman turned her back on Elspeth and began to direct the black-clad people. Two of them scooped up the limp body of the red-clad Draaka. The tall Prime Wykka still stared up at Elspeth, wariness merged with a kind of fear displayed on her features.

"You must come," Prime Wykka spoke. She was unsure in delivery, but her voice carried a permanent authoritive intonation. Her command had sounded too weak.

Elspeth raised her eyebrows. She didn't like this talk of cloisters, and these were the strangest Herders she had ever encountered, if that's what they truly were.

"If I refuse?"

"If you refuse you will be left on this beach to rot," the Prime breathed, not skipping a beat. "I do not know how you got down here, other than by the Chaos Spirit's will. But we are the only ones who know the route to the surface."

Elspeth was about to tell this Prime Wykka where to stick her Chaos Spirit when the mind of the She tapped on her shield.

"Sisterling, we are both lost, you and I. I am loathed to be bound but it was my need that compelled me to obey, as does yours."

_"I have no compulsion to obey," _Elspeth returned. _"Come with me, and we shall find what we are looking for away from them."_

_"I cannot leave, for I am bonded to Bayardmind."_

Elspeth didn't know what a bayardmind was, but something about the little animal's message told Elspeth that this was as good a place as any to begin finding answers. And they were wary of her – this told her that they weren't going to kill her…yet. They were expecting something of her, and had presumed that she served their master, this 'Chaos Spirit'. Elspeth huffed a bitter half-laugh at the absurdity.

"I will come with you," she answered Prime Wykka.

-----


	3. Chapter 3

A/n: I have no idea why I haven't submitted this chapter yet. I've had it written for ages. Something reminded me about this story the other day - hopefully, time permitting, I'll be able to continue it...

* * *

Chapter 3

Cassy woke to an argument.

"I _am_ sure," it was a woman's voice. She sounded young. "You suddenly don't trust my visions, Solen? After all this?"

"This isn't about your visions, this is about Darkfall!" Cassy presumed it was Solen who answered the girl roughly. "Don't you think they would have announced something? And do _not_ hold your visions over me. You know what it implies, if you are correct. But the signs _don't add up_!"

Cassy remained silent, and kept her eyes closed. Maybe if she stayed really still they'd not notice she was…wherever she was…and go away. She must have washed up on a beach near a backpackers, otherwise they would be speaking Greek, not this strangely accented English.

"It is common to feel fear and undergo denial when legend slaps you in the face. Perhaps you read the signs too literally," the girl answered, and there was a disgruntled sound from Solen. "Do you presume yourself Soulweaver now, to be able to interpret the signs correctly without assistance?"

They must be having trouble with the language on the street signs, Cassy thought to herself. Definitely tourists.

"Do you?" Solen thundered.

There was a pause. Cassy wondered if they'd killed each other.

"You're not a Soulweaver yet, Flay," this came quietly. "Your overconfidence in your visions may well be your undoing."

"I just don't understand why you're so upset with me," the girl called Flay answered. "Wouldn't you have acted the same? Even if I hadn't Soulweaved her coming, don't pretend you wouldn't have hauled her out of the water. Or, are you, brother, more heartless than you lead us to believe? Would you have left her?" Flay demanded.

The reply was quiet, but bitter. Suddenly, this Solen mustn't have wanted them to be heard. "Of course not! I just hope you think before you speak to the Soulweavers, at least more so than you do before speaking to your family!"

"The Soulweavers have doubtless also forseen her coming," Flay sniffed.

There was another pause.

"Oh, go on Flay!" Solen called, right before Cassy heard a door shut, perhaps a little too loudly. With an unrecognisable but obvious curse, Solen sat on the edge of Cassy's bed, landing roughly on her feet.

Cassy let out a little yelp and opened her eyes.

Solen jumped off the bed.

"You're awake?"

Cassy looked up to face the man who'd been shouting in the room for the past five minutes. The man who was, presumably, she'd picked up from the thread of the conversation, her rescuer. He was Asian, with a well defined face and hunter's eyes. Not a face Cassy thought she could forget easily.

"Yes," she answered guiltily, immediately feeling silly. It was extremely obvious that she was awake.

"Good," Solen answered, casting a quick glance towards the door Flay had exited. "Perhaps you can answer some questions?"

Cassy blinked at his roughness and tried to take the words in as she looked around the room. Cabin was a more operative word. Everything was made of wood, brass, or canvas.

"First, what is your name?"

Cassy's attention snapped back to Solen, though the words he spoke didn't even brush her comprehension.

"Where…am I?"

Solen grimaced. "I am asking the questions. What is your name, and how did you come to be in the great water?"

Cassy blinked. This time the questions had registered. "I'm…" she wondered if she should give him her real name. Probably not. He might be a disgruntled agent of her father's, seeking to blackmail the Duprey family. She rethought, as foggy as it was in her mind.

"I was trying to rescue someone – a girl. She was in the water too."

"There was no one else with you," Solen's frown remained and lines of scepticism appeared between his eyes. Cassy did a double take. His _purple_ eyes. Contacts, of course. Nobody had purple eyes.

"I didn't make her up," Cassy shrugged dismissively.

Solen opened his mouth, but was distracted by a noise above.

Cassy watched Solen as his serious, hard angled face seemed to see through the ceiling panels, and thought for a moment that he might be stoned.

Feeling slightly vulnerable, Cassy asked hesitantly, "Are…you part of a Contiki tour?"

Solen turned back to Cassy slowly, the lines of scepticism morphing into confusion.

"A _what_?"

"Sorry," Cassy looked at her feet. "I thought you might be a tourist."

Solen blinked. "I'm accompanying my sister on a journey, but this is no tour. You must be of noble blood to speak of tour ships, for there are scant few Vespi who would sell their services to a single family, purely for sport."

Cassy saw that she had hit a bit of a sore spot. "I'm not noble, I swear," she tried to remain calm, and somehow managed to laugh at the thought of her as a noble. "My father…" did she dare tell him?

"Who are you?" Solen sounded confused. "Which sept are you from?"

"I…my name is Cassandra," she allowed this much. "I'm from London."

"Where's _that_? Which island?"

He was most definitely stoned, Cassy deduced, suddenly becoming frustrated with this strange man. Who didn't know which island London was on?

"I'm not telling you anything until I know where I am and how I got here."

Solen held his hands out for her to stop, but still spoke with relative command. "You are safe, that much I can tell you. If you'd be able to tell me which sept you're from-"

"I don't have a sept!" Cassy lost a little patience. "I'm from London. Which country are you from? I can't place you're accent."

Solen sat a little straighter. "I'm from Acantha – no, hold a moment. I am not answering your questions, girl-"

"Then I refuse to answer yours, _boy_," Cassy felt childish and silly, but didn't like being led through a conversation. This man was obviously used to having control. He reminded her of that ghoul Masterton, one of her father's cronies.

Unfortunately for this Solen, whoever he was, Cassy was also used to having control.

Solen seemed to flatten out a little. His shoulders, and defiance, dropped. "Then she may be right."

"Who?" Cassy asked.

Solen gave Cassy a sideways glance, and she remembered they weren't answering each other's questions. Well, Cassy wasn't giving up that easily – he was probably just trying to bait her.

"Well," Solen stood. Cassy stood also, then wavered a little, seeing stars. Solen pretended not to notice. "I shall leave you to your secrets, Cassandra, and advise my sister to think twice in the future before acting on her visions. Since you refuse to advise which sept you hail from, you will be disembarking on Myrmidor with my sister…and I."

"Thank you," Cassy managed pleasantly, using the tone she would to a servitor, if she'd ever had one. Myrmidor…sounded like one of the Greek Islands. She'd be able to loose this twosome in no time and be back on Naxos for breakfast. If she was lucky, someone may have handed in her passport too-

Solen cut off her train of thought as he moved to leave. "The fare to Myrmidor is four hacoin."

"Fare?" Cassy blinked. Hacoin? What in God's name was a hacoin!

"You…do have coin, do you not?" Solen faltered.

Cassy kept her mouth shut and met Solen's eyes reluctantly, yet pleadingly.

Solen betrayed a smug half-smile, and there was a glint in his eyes. "Good evening."

He closed the door.

Cassy sat back on the bed, her shoulders slumping. She'd left her wallet on the beach, and even if she had it, she had no hacoin, only Euro. How was she going to pay for her fare – and her rescue?

Cassy groaned, flopping back onto the bed and realising that she'd just snubbed the man who had saved her life. How could she have been so rude? She resolved to apologise with haste, and explain that her wallet was on a beach in Naxos. If they could pay for her fare to Myrmi…wherever, she'd wire them some money as soon as she was back on Naxos. Unless they handed her to the border police. Cassy shivered, and scolded herself for being so abrupt.

As if they'll ever believe me, Cassy laughed at herself, looking out the porthole of her cabin. The ocean in the distance was black, sparkled with a blueish reflection. It was very pretty. Cassy smiled and blinked. For the moment, she was dry and safe. She needed a spot of sleep, and then she'd find Solen and apologise to him, answer his questions and try to find some way out of this mess.

The "mess" seemed to thicken and take a turn for the worse however, before Cassy had any time to act. She woke, sunlight hitting her face, and blinked repeatedly. She hadn't meant to sleep for so long!

The sight that met Cassy took her breath as she peered out of the porthole. First shock – a red sun. Maybe she'd hit her head and her eyesight was playing up. Second shock – a looming cliff face, shrouded in mist looking quite like Scotland and quite unlike Greece and a miniature port consisting of odd looking ships; they didn't seem to have sails. Third shock-

"You're awake!" a girl's voice, the same girl's voice from the previous night's argument, rang out behind Cassy. She startled and turned to the girl. She had to be no older than thirteen, with big, _purple_ eyes and smooth, black hair, decorated with a small plait and a number of black feathers. Cassy tried to remember her name, but couldn't stumble upon the right memory bank-

"I'm Flay," the girl smiled and dipped her head in a slow sort of bow. She lifted her eyes to Cassy, no end of sparkle in them.

Cassy just stared at her, gobsmacked. Her thoughts were swirling with red suns, purple eyed people and turn of the century ships without sails.

Flay seemed to be waiting for her to respond. Cassy blinked.

Flay unfroze and smiled again. "Obviously you're going to be feeling a little disoriented, so let me assure you that your questions will be answered once we reach Darkfall."

Flay paused, moving to once side of the cabin where she proceeded to unlatch a pair of wooden cups, then fill them from a small brass knob in the side of the wall. She continued to speak.

"Yes, you'll be safe with my brother and I, and safer once you're on Darkfall."

Flay handed Cassy a cup full of clear liquid. Cassy gave Flay a look, then sniffed it.

"It's water," Flay frowned a little. Frowning aged her. "Don't you speak our language?" she asked kindly.

There was a laugh from the doorway. "I assure you she speaks, and quite forcefully, Flay."

Solen was leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a long purple cloak.

Cassy blinked again, though the sound of Solen's sneer had begun to bring her mind back to her.

"Solen," Flay warned, but it ended up sounding more like a whine. "I thought you were on deck."

Solen shrugged. "Have you told her who you think she is? That could explain her silence."

Cassy's focus sharpened twofold. They knew who she was. They were going to blackmail her family!

"No," Flay raised her nose and defiantly stared Solen down.

She had to know. "Who do you think I am?" she asked quietly.

Solen and Flay were staring at each other as though exchanging a hidden message. Finally, Flay spoke.

"Why you are here would be a more appropriate question, but that will be answered by those wiser than the three of us," Flay raised her eye brows in victory to Solen, then turned back to Cassy. "If any ask it of you, you are my sister Hella. None on Myrmidor should know what Hella really looks like."

"I look nothing like you," Cassy pointed out the obvious.

"We'll disguise you," Solen piped up, a tad bored. "The shipmaster's daughter Aris has a lot of drapey clothing, ask her for something."

"Um…" Cassy looked to Flay. She was rolling her eyes.

"No, Solen. We're going to make her look like _us_, not a shipmaster's daughter. Get me your make up kit," she ordered.

Cassy spat her water across the room. She hadn't expected that.

Solen looked at her as though she were mad. Flay was immediately concerned though. "Oh no, perhaps the water doesn't agree with her-"

"No, no, I'm fine," Cassy coughed, thumping her chest to move the water.

Once Solen had retrieved a box of what looked like paints more than makeup, Flay smoothed out Cassy's hair and ironed it straight. Cassy cringed at the split ends she would incur from the act.

Flay babbled the entire time, telling Cassy about her sister Hella, and Hella's love of gemling, which sounded a lot like geology. After ironing Cassy's hair, Flay turned Cassy to face her, and dabbed paint and drew lines here and there. Cassy felt like a clown. Solen, enjoying every moment of Cassy's apparent embarrassment, smugly left the room to attend to some 'business', which Cassy loosely interpreted as 'drinking'.

"Finished," Flay proclaimed, after what must have been over half an hour's work. There were no mirrors in the room so Cassy couldn't inspect what the young girl had done to her. For what it was worth, her face felt…clogged. She wondered how her pores would breathe?

"All that remains is this," Flay handed Cassy a grey jumpsuit that looked like a reject of Flashdance, a short, black tunic and a black apron full of pockets. "There's no tools, but it'll do."

Cassy mumbled something akin to thank you, then paused. Flay wasn't leaving. Cassy had expected her to leave her some privacy to get changed.

"Do I really look like your sister?" she asked quietly, pawing the grey jumpsuit.

"You look enough like her description," Flay smiled. "Apart from your eyes, of course."

"What's wrong with my eyes?"

"They're…well, green. Only Fomhikans and Sheannites have green eyes."

"Wha…?"

"Oh, right," Flay grinned, her eyes sparking again. She shook her head. "I can't believe you're here."

Cassy wondered if she should bother asking, yet again, where 'here' was, exactly.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/n: I've never been to Oktoberfest. Sorry if I got it entirely wrong. It just seemed like a good place to start the twins' journeys._

* * *

Chapter 4

"Whoa, they're like the most retro contacts sweetie, where did you get them?"

Glynn pushed Ember aside defensively. The heat was getting to her and she was sick of idiot moshers.

"She's blind you wanker. Never seen a cataract before?"

"All right, chill, _Helga,_" The stoner waltzed off into the hazy crowd.

Glynn felt ruffled. Oktoberfest had been perhaps the _worst_ idea to date. Too busy, too many people – too many tourists! Why, why, WHY had she accepted the backstage passes from Harrison Bonn? And WHY had she brought Ember? This wasn't the most friendly of environments for her frail sister, and neither of them felt like cheering on Hard Goth.

Glynna lead her sister back to the comfortable confines of Hard Goth's backstage area, making sure her all-access pass was flipped around the right way. She got a glare from the bodyguard, but simply glared back, mentally screaming _try me_ to him. He was slouching on his left knee. She could knock him out in two seconds flat-

"_Whoa, Glynn,"_ she attempted to calm herself,closing her eyes for a moment to drag back her centre. The atmosphere at the festival was _definitely_ getting to her. So many drunk and confused people, muddled between the angry, the angst ridden, and the hope-less.

If Ember was equally effected, she did a good job of hiding it. Perhaps for the first time, Glynna envied her sister's cool indifference.

Then thought the better of it. Better to feel the chaos, recognise it for what it was, and react, than be a cold, stony iceberg floating along in nothingness.

The twins leaned against the back of a couple of speakers.

"I'm sorry, Em," Glynna tried to smile. "This is madness. We should have gone to Greece," _just like you wanted to…_Glynna neglected to add, feeling guilty.

Ember coughed weakly, fluttered her eyelashes in an unimpressed manner and popped a pill with a swift, elegant movement. She said nothing.

That was the last straw. Glynna gritted her teeth, and excused herself. She could not be mean to, or blame her sister, for what she had become. Ember was sick – hell, she was dying.

But how on earth had the girl just stopped reacting and _feeling_?

Glynn wandered aimlessly around the backstage area, trying her best to retain a sunny disposition. _Just breathe. Smile. Wave. Giggle yourself silly. _

She plopped herself into a chair and pulled an itinerary lying idly on the table towards her to occupy her mind. It was from Bonn's company, listing the times, places and gigs Hard Goth had signed on to do.

"I don't give a flying eff what you think sounds better," one of the roadies bellowed, coming into the building on his last word. Glynn reddened, realising she couldn't remember his name. Such was the case with many roadies; they were known to most members of their assorted party only by attitude (and occasionally, odour). This one was always stomping around in a flurry of insults, putting on an annoying British accent (even though he was Australian) in an effort to sound cultured, or perhaps punk. She smiled at the agitated-looking man. He didn't seem to notice she was there, storming through to one of the adjoining rooms, arms full of cables, papers, and beer cans.

Music filtered through the door the roadie had left open. Being tone deaf, Glynn had only one, undescriptive word to pin to it – **loud**. She winced.

What the _hell _was she doing here? She was in Germany. There were a million places she and Ember could be – just because she had these tickets didn't mean they had to use them.

Glynna found Ember exactly where she'd left her – propped up against some speakers, looking apathetic and feeble.

"Come on," she grabbed her sister's arm, which felt weightless. "We're going out."

Ember shrugged.

Glynna rolled her eyes, moving away from the music and towards the back door that lead to the outside world. She put her sunglasses on as she stepped into the sunlight, and nodded good afternoon to the security guards outside.

"Oh, the door's opening!"

"Who is it?"

"I want your babies Gabe!"

"Oh, it's just _those_ groupies again."

Glynna glared at the sarcastic, pathetic Hard Goth fans who had taken to haunting the back door of the fenced-off Hard Goth backstage area. She wondered what these fans would say, if she told them that they were _not_ groupies. That they were in fact, guests of Hard Goth. That the unsmiling, beautiful, blind girl trailing along behind her was the writer of all those songs Hard Goth mutilated on stage this very moment?

_At least they feel something,_ Glynna thought on, throwing a dark look at her sister.

Glynna couldn't retain her mood, though. Before long, they were walking a cobbled street, by gothic buildings that looked like museums and art galleries which, on closer inspection, turned out to be everything from toy shops to nightclubs. Munich was so beautiful. Why hadn't she thought of doing this sooner, Glynna wondered to herself, delightfully breathing in the rich smell of roasting coffee beans as they passed a café.

After about twenty minutes, Ember's grip tightened, so slightly that Glynna barely noticed it.

"What is it?" Glynna smiled back at Ember, feeling lighter than she had in months.

Ember was staring into a music shop, her good eye roving over an ancient looking guitar on display in the window.

Glynna stared between her sister and the guitar, waiting for Ember to express her interest in the guitar vocally so they could enter the store. Ember remained silent a moment longer, her gaze shifting.

"Where have I seen that before?" she was pointing at a poster.

Glynna blinked and looked. There was a sign tacked to the shop window advertising chartered tours of some German estates and castles. The poster had a picture of a grand, grey fortress on the bulk of it.

"Probably in a movie," Glynna shrugged, also feeling as though she'd seen this castle somewhere.

"I'd like to go see it," Ember sighed dreamily.

"You would?" Glynna asked quickly, taken aback. "Um, yeah, of course. We can go tomorrow. It's too late now."

Ember turned and faced her sister sadly. "I…don't think we can wait until tomorrow."

Glynna looked back at the poster for the name of the charter company, wondering why Ember was so adamant all of a sudden, after hours of nothing.

"Please, Glynn," Ember was quietly persistent. "I…I just have a weird feeling."

"You're not having another spell are you?" Glynn interrupted. "Should I call for an ambulance?"

"No, nothing like that," Ember closed her eyes a moment, holding her arms.

When Ember didn't continue, Glynn shook her head, feeling a little colder than before, and resumed reading the poster.

"Let's find these guys then," Glynna muttered. "'The Sparkling Spirit'. What kind of name is that for a tour company?"

The large, helpful rep at the Sparkling Spirit told Glynna after much questioning that the estate on the poster was an hour out of Munich and could be only reached by tour bus with them, or car. It was an estate of a local man and was to soon be taken off the tour, the rep told Glynna, his beady eyes glittering, hoping for the quick sale.

Glynna held her ground, asking for their bus timetable and trying to get the name of the place out of him. He handed over the timetable, looking slightly affronted.

"Ve run tours at eleven und three," he pointed to a range of dates on the piece of paper. There were more tours at this time of year, she noticed, thanks to Oktoberfest. The prices were also at their highest. Seemed everyone cashed in on the influx of tourists.

Glynna looked at her watch. They still had time to make the three o'clock tour.

_Oh, to hell with it,_ Glynna forked out some Euro to the salesman, who immediately lost his affronted look and gave them directions to a nearby bus depot.

Glynna sent a silent _you happy now? _to her sister.

Ember had a slight smile on her lips. So slight, no one would have noticed it, unless they knew Ember, and knew how rarely she smiled.

Back outside, Glynna inspected their tickets. The main estates they would visit on the tour were listed on it.

"Well, here we go," she sighed. "I hope the Reichler estate is worth all this effort."


End file.
